


A First Time For Everything

by Fictionista654



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, F/F, First Time, somehow this became a whole au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-24 16:05:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19727038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionista654/pseuds/Fictionista654
Summary: The gym door clunks open, and Lena automatically hides the cig behind her back, but it’s just Kara, who’s in basketball shorts. “It’s below freezing,” says Lena, putting the cigarette back in her mouth and cupping her hand around the lighter. It doesn’t catch and she huffs and takes the cig back out of her mouth and turns to Kara. “How are you not an icicle.”Kara and Lena are competing for valedictorian. Today they learn how to get along. AKA Kara's sunny attitude and dumb basketball shorts thaw Lena's cold, emo heart.First chapter can stand alone.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s fucking freezing out, and Lena stamps her boots against the ground and shivers and wishes her tights were thicker. She can’t get a light going because of the wind, and her mother is blowing up her phone with texts like _are you planning to study tonight?_ and _Yale won’t wait forever_ and she wants to cry and she thinks she failed the Spanish final and she can’t get a fucking light going.

The gym door clunks open, and Lena automatically hides the cig behind her back, but it’s just Kara, who’s in basketball shorts. “It’s below freezing,” says Lena, putting the cigarette back in her mouth and cupping her hand around the lighter. It doesn’t catch and she huffs and takes the cig back out of her mouth and turns to Kara. “How are you not an icicle.”

“Oh, this?” Kara looks down at her t-shirt, her shorts, her running shoes. “I don’t really get cold.” She bends at the waist and scrapes her blonde hair into a ponytail. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Are you going to judge me too?” says Lena, not really giving a shit anymore what teacher’s pet Kara has to say, not when Kara’s edging Lena out for valedictorian. If Lena doesn’t get it, her mother’s going to blow the roof off Luthor Manor. 

“Of course not,” says Kara, beaming at Lena as though this is a beaming moment. “I know you’re having a rough year.”

“I am?” says Lena, examining her unlit cigarette. “I didn’t know that.”

“Sarcasm,” says Kara, because if there’s one thing that girl’s good for, it’s pointing out the obvious. And acing science tests, unfortunately.

Lena tries one last time to light it and it doesn’t work so she throws the cigarette into the snow. Kara retrieves. “Litter,” she explains.

“Thank God we have Kara Danvers to save the planet,” says Lena.

Kara pushes up her glasses and smiles and says, “And don’t you forget it!” She looks around for a trashcan, cigarette held far enough from her body so anyone who sees will know that it’s not _her_ who was smoking, not perfect little Kara Danvers, who always comes in first.

Not Kara Danvers who’s so unfairly beautiful that it could make Lena scream. She knows what her mother would say about that, though—homosexuality is definitely not part of the 12-step plan to Get Into Yale, and it’s definitely not something you can put on Christmas card and send to the conservative relatives, who are rich conservatives who just want to get richer and don’t care about things like saving the goddamn planet, not like Kara does.

“Are you going to exercise?” says Lena, because after Kara throws away the cigarette she keeps standing there, hands at her sides.

“Exercise? Oh, no.” Kara laughs. “I don’t run on Wednesdays. It was just getting a little stuffy inside.”

“You must be fucking with me,” says Lena. The heater’s been broken since the beginning of winter, working sporadically. Every day’s a prayer that the air coming out of the vents will be hot. And here Kara is, acting like it’s the height of summer.

“I’m telling you, I really don’t mind the cold. It’s so nice!” Kara throws her arms open. “Just feel the wind, Lena. Let it rush through you.”

“This is hippie-dippie bull,” says Lena, but she does try to feel the wind, just a little. And it’s fucking freezing. Kara looks warm though, all pink cheeks and red nose and fuck, Lena’s thinking about it again. Thinking about what it would be like to kiss Kara Danvers.

“We could go inside if you want,” says Kara, and Lena rolls her eyes and scoffs and hits the heel of her boot against a patch of ice.

“If I wanted to be inside, I’d be inside.”

“Hey,” says Kara, checking her stupid sports watch. “Don’t you have student government?” 

“Do I?” says Lena. “Oh, well. I guess I’m missing it.”

“Yeah,” says Kara. “You wanna walk home with me?”

Lena lives a half-hour drive away, but Kara doesn’t know that, so she nods and says, “Yeah, let’s get out of here.” At first the walk is silent but then Kara’s pointing out all these different types of trees and talking about stuff like the life cycle of stars, and Lena can’t help but be interested.

They get to Kara’s house too soon, and then they’re standing on the porch and looking at each other, and Lena is thinking, _Not only do I want to kiss this girl, I want to fuck her._ She wonders what Kara’s thinking. Probably not that.

“Do you want to come in?” says Kara, and Lena shrugs and follows her into the warm front hall, and, damn, it actually smells like cookies baking, and it’s warm, so fucking warm, and it thaws the chill in Lena’s bones.

“I’m surprised you can handle the heat,” she says, and Kara sighs tells her that she’s the only one in her family who likes the cold.

Kara’s room is everything Lena expected it to be, and so much more: stars stuck to the ceiling in actual constellations, posters of Madame Curie and Rosalind Franklin, shelves and shelves of books that exert a magnetic force on Lena. And the bed is nice, too. Queen-size, fluffy blue comforter, soft soft soft pillows, and Lena can’t take off her shoes fast enough.

She sinks into the bed and pulls the blankets around her and nearly cries from the sudden feeling of safety she gets. “I love your bed,” she says. Kara says she loves her bed, too, and then they look at each other and look at each other and Lena doesn’t know what to say.

Lena’s never dared to dream of a moment like this, a moment where it’s just her and Kara and a bed. Kara’s so pretty it takes Lena’s breath away, and she says, “Do you know that you’re actually the prettiest person ever?” and Kara’s mouth drops open and she splutters and adjusts her glasses.

“I—oh. _Oh_.” Kara smiles shyly. “You’re pretty, too. Um. Stunning, actually.” One of Kara’s hands makes it to Lena’s face, and then Lena’s wrapping her arms around Kara’s neck and pushing her down into that blue bedspread. They trade kisses until Kara’s glasses steam and she has to take them off. Lena laughs at her, and Kara laughs at herself, and they go back to kissing.

At some point, Kara flips them so it’s her on top, and Lena likes this quite a lot. She likes having Kara in charge, she likes not having to think for once, she likes the taste of Kara’s lip-balm, she likes the heat that pools between her legs. And it is heat, a living, burning heat, a heat she’s never felt before. “Why haven’t we done this before?” she says.

“No clue,” says Kara, and kisses her way down Lena’s body until Lena’s gasping and biting her lip and pressing her head into the pillows.

“Why are you so good at this?” says Lena. 

“I actually don’t know,” says Kara, and goes back to doing wonderful things, really fucking wonderful things, and Lena fists Kara’s hair and stares at the stars on the ceiling. 

“Are you close?” says Kara, and Lena nods desperately, unable to speak. And then she’s more than close, she’s reached the top of the rollercoaster, and she actually has to close her eyes against the sudden crest of pleasure. She pants helplessly when Kara’s done, and Kara kisses her and kisses her, and Lena says, “I don’t know if I’m ready to…you know. But I can do something else.” And Kara nods and slides out of those stupid basketball shorts, and Lena shows her what she can do with her fingers.

“Wow,” says Kara when they’re done. “That was. Wow.” 

Lena trails her fingers over the plane of Kara’s chest, feeling the ridges of bone beneath, the soft swell of the breasts on either side. “So let’s do that a million more times?”

“First tell me why you were outside today,” says Kara, and Lena surprises herself by telling the truth.

“I got into Yale. My mother wants me to accept.”

“But you don’t want to go?”

Lena sighs and rests her head on Kara’s arm. “I sort of want to go to an all-girls school.”

“And major in lesbianism?” says Kara. 

“Yeah,” says Lena. “I mean, no. But yeah. I just want…”

“I get it,” says Kara, pulling Lena close. “The decision’s yours, in the end.”

“Can we not talk about this anymore?” says Lena. “It’s stressing me out.”

“You wanna take a nap?”

“Oh, my God,” says Lena, “that would be the best thing in the entire fucking world.” So they pull up the covers and curl up beneath them and Lena’s so cold and Kara’s a space heater and Lena silently cries because this is the most perfect moment of her life.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun is beating a hole in the ground, and the air’s so hot that Lena can’t breathe, and she can’t believe it but she’s actually missing winter. It’s too hot to smoke and she doesn’t like to swim and at least school’s almost over and she’ll never have to walk into National City High again after next week. Goodbye, watery, greasy, gloppy caf food. Goodbye, broken locker 107. Goodbye, GSA run by straight allies.

“Hey,” says Kara, rolling down the window to her actual, honest-to-God pickup truck. “You want a ride?”

Lena adjusts her backpack straps and looks around and feels the heat the more. “Fine,” she says at last, and climbs up into the cab. “You’re not worried I’ll scare away all your friends?”

“Nope.” Kara does something with the gearshift and makes the truck rattle, and Lena thinks about how high off the ground they are. All the other cars on the road look like toys. She turns up the air conditioning and waits for Kara to say something. She doesn’t.

“You want to hook up before class?” says Lena, tapping the air-freshener hanging from the rearview mirror so it swings. She tries to sound as casual as possible, but Kara isn’t buying it,

“You know I like you for your company, too, right?” says Kara. “Like, the sex is awesome, but I wouldn’t mind talking with you.”

Lena scoffs. “Nobody likes talking with me.”

“I like talking with you,” says Kara.

“Nobody wants to get near a Luthor,” Lena says bitterly. Kara winces and spins the wheel in preparation for a turn.

“Nobody wants to get near your brother,” she corrects. “But you’re not him.”

“I could be,” says Lena, and fiddles with the hem of her skirt. “What would you do if I killed someone?”

“Oh, man,” says Kara. “That depends. Who did you kill?”

“Your mother,” Lena says.

“Okay, so,” says Kara. “In that case I’d probably break up with you.” Her blue eyes sweep over Lena, and Lena just wants to disappear into the threadbare seat. Who says stuff like the shit Lena says? Your _mother_? It’s fucking psychopathic, and she leans her head against the window and feels the vibrations all the way down to her teeth. 

“So don’t kill my mom,” Kara adds, a laugh in her voice, “and we’ll be good.”

“Shit,” says Lena. “There go my afternoon plans.” It’s not a funny joke, and the whole thing is a touch too morbid, but Kara laughs anyway, because she’s a nice person. Lena would never laugh at a joke she didn’t think was funny. She’s not good at faking things things like that. Her stomach is a terrible, anxious, horrible mess, completely turned in knots. When she speaks, there’s the tiniest quaver in her voice. “I hate him.”

“I get that,” says Kara. “But you have to remember that it’s so not your fault. In any way.”

Tears fracture Lena’s vision into polygons of light. She widens her eyes and tries to suction them back into the ducts. Her makeup is one of the few barriers she has between her and the people who hate her. That and her resting bitch-face. She’s never made it into a school catalogue or the slideshow of photos on the NCH website.

“Aw, babe,” says Kara, which hits Lena straight in the heart. She moves a hand from the gear-shift to Lena’s knee, and rubs soothingly. 

“Whatever,” says Lena, risking even more mascara-smearage by dabbing at her eyes with a finger. “It’s not important.”

“Okay,” Kara says in a tone that lets Lena know that Kara’s going to bring this up at a later time. “You want to stop for coffee?”

Lena leans her head against the headrest and closes her eyes. “ _Please_.”

***

“This isn’t what I meant,” says Kara. “Lena, the floor’s filthy!”

Lena smiles up from the Starbucks bathroom floor. “You want me to stop?” 

Kara wraps her fists in Lena’s hair, tugs lightly so Lena can feel the sting. “Don’t you dare, you awful person.”

“Thought so,” Lena says smugly.

***

Unfortunately, life is not a Starbucks bathroom. When Lena gets out of Kara’s truck in the NCH parking lot, there are plenty of stares. It’s weird, she’s spent so much time with Kara, but it’s never been in front of other people before. Not that Kara would have an issue with it—Lena thinks—but Lena’s not going to burden someone she likes with all the hate she gets. Her stomach twists again, and she thinks that maybe a double espresso on an empty stomach was a mistake.

“I’ll see you,” she says softly to Kara, just barely brushing her pinky against Kara’s. Kara looks like she wants to say something, but Lena turns on her heel and marches towards school. There are fifteen minutes before first period, and she intends to spend them studying the Calc review packet for the final. The loudspeaker has other ideas.

“Kara Danvers and Lena Luthor to the office, please. Kara Danvers and Lena Luthor.”

Lena rests her forehead against the battered blue metal of her locker. They’re not supposed to get the results of valedictorian until after finals, but she can’t think of what else it could be. It couldn’t…the school doesn’t know, do they? 

They can’t. There’s no way. But Lena feels like she’s breathing through a straw. She sees Kara just outside the office, twisting her backpack strap and biting her lip and shoving her glasses back up her nose. So Kara’s also nervous, which doesn’t mean much because Kara can turn from confident to a nervy mess in five seconds flat, but it also does mean something because if this were about valedictorian, Kara wouldn’t be freaking out. She always says salutatorian is basically the same thing, and Lena almost believes her. She’d probably feel the same way if it weren’t for her mother’s constant badgering.

“Hey, you,” says Kara. “I was waiting.” She backs into the door so it swings inward and raises her eyebrows. _Ready?_

Deep breath. Smile. Nod. “Let’s go,” say Lena.

The inside of Cat’s office is like living in an iPhone box. Everything is sleek, white, and ultra modern. The desktop computer is almost paper thin. Cat, who’s scribbling with a stylus on the surface of her giant iPad, nods for them to sit. The chairs are saucer-shaped and supremely uncomfortable. Rumor has it that Cat got them specifically to discourage overbearing parents from overstaying their welcome. 

“Hello, girls,” she finally says, lowering her pink reading glasses and fixing them with an icy look. 

“Hello, Dr. Grant,” chirps Kara, practically bouncing with her eagerness to please, and God, is she ever not a people-pleaser? Lena almost snorts before she remembers that she likes Kara now. 

“Hello, Kay-ra,” Cat says. “And Ms. Luthor.” Of course, because why would Lena and Cat be on a first-name basis? Kara spends hours of her free time lapping up Cat’s knowledge like a kitten—ha ha—so of course Cat likes Kara better. It doesn’t matter, it really doesn’t, and Lena looks down at her too-long blue skirt, the one her mother bought, and tries not to think of her relationship with the NCH administration. 

Cat picks up a single sheet of paper off her desk and runs her eyes over it. Shit, shit, shit. What does it say? At least ten different scenarios run through Lena’s mind, each ending with, _We’ll have to tell your parents._

“At the moment, Lena’s GPA is a half-point higher than Kay-ra’s,” says Cat. This is so far away from anything Lena was expecting that she nearly chokes on her own spit.

“Oh, my God!” says Kara, hitting Lena on the arm. “You’re valedictorian!” 

“We still have finals,” Lena says through numb lips. 

“But that’s not what we’re here to talk about,” says Cat, and Lena thinks that now would be a great time to have a tooth pulled, because she currently feels nothing in that vicinity.

“What are we here to talk about then?” she says, her voice surprisingly smooth.

Cat leans back in her aerodynamic lumbar-supportive five-hundred dollar desk chair and purses her lips. “Traditionally, the valedictorian and salutatorian speak at graduation. Ten minutes to the valedictorian and five to the salutatorian. I wanted to ask you, Ms. Luthor, if you wanted to give your time to Kay-ra.” 

First Lena processes that this is not about her secret school romance. Then she realizes what Cat has said. Even Kara looks shocked.

“Dr. Grant!” Kara exclaims. “I would never take Lena’s time. She’s worked just as hard as I have—harder even. She earned this.”

“I know,” Cat says, her voice surprisingly soft. “But this is Lena’s choice.” 

Except it’s not. Not really. Cat expects her to give her time, whatever it might end up to be, to Kara. And Lena gets it. Nobody wants a reminder of National City High’s greatest tragedy on what’s supposed to be the best day of their lives. Or is that prom? Whatever. She's not meant to give the valedictorian address. At least she reached first-name status with Cat on the way.

“Fine,” she says. “Is that all?”

Cat gives her one last lingering look before she says, “That’s all, Ms. Luthor.”

Damnit.

***

“I still think this is so unfair,” Kara says two weeks later. They’re in the woods by the creek, where they usually go when Lena wants to smoke. “Like, the most unfair in the entire world. I’m so mad. Look at my mad face!”

Lena looks up from the joint she’s rolling and inspects the face in question. Yes, it’s definitely mad, but _adorably_ mad. 

“You look like a Labrador Retriever that can’t find its ball.”

Kara huffs and sits against a tree and starts untying her shoelaces so she can walk down into the creek and catch trout or whatever. A wholesome activity, not something that could get you expelled or barred from graduation. “Actually, fuck it,” says Kara. 

Lena nearly drops her joint. “Did you just swear?”

“Yep,” Kara says grimly. “FUCK IT. You’re going to give your address tomorrow. You’re the top of the class.”

“What makes you think I _want_ to talk about my four glorious years with those mouth-breathers?” Lena seals the joint and holds a lighter up to the end to burn off the excess paper. Black smoke fills the air, and Kara chokes on it.

“So,” says Lena, holding up the finished product. “Care to join me?” And it’s just a gesture because Kara never smokes, not ever, because it’s so bad for your lungs and your brain and your skin, and besides greasy takeout, Kara takes the best care of herself of anyone that Lena has ever known. 

But Kara narrows her eyes and inspects the joint and bites her lip and says, “Yes, I think I will.” 

“Oh,” says Lena, and laughs, and scoots forward until their feet are touching and their knees are up to their chests. “You know how?”

“I’m not an idiot,” says Kara.

“Remember to inhale.”

“Got it.” 

“I feel like you’re my baby, and I’m teaching you how to walk,” says Lena, and takes a hit.

Kara snorts. “Lena, I hate to break it to you, but you’re a terrible parent.” She takes the joint puts the very edge of it to her mouth. She sucks in the smoke. She breathes it down. She exhales. She looks at Lena. “Was something supposed to happen?”

“You didn’t cough,” says Lena, her voice already sounding slow to her ears. “Everyone coughs the first time.”

“I have very strong lungs,” says Kara. She takes five more hits, and none of them seems to do anything. 

“I’m perplexed,” Lena says, rubbing the roach on a tree root. “Incredibly so.” 

“I can’t get drunk, either,” says Kara. “I thought weed might be different.”

“Oh, my God, you poor, poor soul,” says Lena, resting her head on Kara’s lap. “That is truly a tragedy.” She lifts her head and Kara lowers hers and they kiss like that until Lena’s buzzing and she needs something more. But Kara refuses to go beyond making out when Lena’s high, and it’s so. Fucking. Frustrating.

“You’re really not going to give the address?” says Kara, and Lena rolls her eyes.

“Kara, obviously not.”

“Okay,” says Kara, but she sounds dissatisfied. 

***

Once Lena’s sober, they bring each other off and then go home.


	3. Chapter 3

Lena’s having a panic attack, and she knows this because the world is far away and her hands aren’t connected to her body and her head is spinning and she can’t tell if she’s holding her breath or hyperventilating and she just wants everything to end, she just wants this feeling to end, and she doesn’t want to go, and she should have them mail her diploma in the mail or something, she doesn’t care, and she’s sitting up in bed with her arms around her knees and wondering if her parents will bother to go, but they shouldn’t because they’d definitely be ripped from limb to limb, and—

There’s a knock at her window, and Lena nearly jumps out of her skin. For a moment, she considers burying herself under her blankets, but she’s braver than that, so she heaves her unabridged Oxford dictionary off the shelf and staggers over to the window. She may not be able to do much with it, but she could probably drop it on an intruder’s foot. When she sees who’s there, she does drop the dictionary on a foot: her own.

“Fuck!” she swears, hopping on her other foot and trying to shake the pain out of her body. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Are you going to let me in?” Kara says through the glass. 

“How the fuck did you get up there?” says Lena, opening the window and glancing over the side at the side of Luthor manor. Kara has her toes jammed between two stones and her fingers on the window ledge, and it’s honestly terrifying to see.

“Thanks,” says Kara, and lightly propels herself over the ledge and into the room, her gauzy white graduation dress fluttering around her. “You’re in your pajamas.”

“I don’t think I’m going to go,” says Lena, sitting back on her bed and dropping her head into her hands. 

“But you have to go,” says Kara. “You don’t graduate every day.”

“Of course not,” Lena says. “That would be entirely impractical.” 

“I climbed up the side of your house,” says Kara. “I’m dedicated to getting you there.”

“How _did_ you climb up the side of my house?” says Lena. Kara shrugs.

“I’m just good at climbing, I guess.”

Something still isn’t adding up here, but Lena’s sure of the fact that she’s not going to graduation. Everyone will be grateful when she doesn’t show up. They’ll probably like her more if she doesn’t go than if she does.

“So climb back down.”

“Lena,” pleads Kara. “I really want you there.”

“Kara,” says Lena. “My brother tried to blow up the fucking school. I’m not going.”

She looks at Kara. Kara looks at her. She looks at Kara.

“Damn it,” says Lena, and goes to get her dress.

***

It’s a bajillion degrees outside and sweat’s trickling down Lena’s spine and the grass is too green and the sky is too blue, and the temporary stage set up on the football field is worryingly rickety, and Lena doesn’t understand how Kara managed to bring her here. She’s seated between two boys who used to be on track with Lex, which is very unfortunate, because nobody hates Lex more than the people who had to do track with him. Apparently, he was very whiney past mile one. 

But Lena’s not whiney. Lena’s a _trooper_ , Lena’s a _survivor_ , Lena’s _at graduation_ , and, most importantly, Lena has Kara. So the track team boys can elbow her and talk over her and shove their disgusting armpits in her face “by accident”, and she won’t lose it.

“Bruh,” says the cretin to Lena’s right. “Did you hear about the aliens in Metropolis?”

Lena grits her teeth.

“Nah,” says the neanderthal to Lena’s left. “Something happen?”

“Fucking freaks,” says the first one. “Had, like, a million arms. Kind of looked like giant ants? They got taken into custody.”

“This is our fucking planet,” complains a boy three people down. “The ants got their own, they just want to leech off us.”

Lena bites her tongue so hard she draws blood. She read about the aliens on thedailyplanet.com, and those aliens were running for their lives after their planet was blown up by the Daxamites. But she can’t call attention to herself, especially not about something like this, something her brother’s known for. She searches the rows of chairs in front of her for Kara, but she can’t find her, and she's getting a little frantic, and she stands halfway out of her chair to look, and then one of the boys is tugging her down because graduation is beginning with Kara Danvers nowhere to be seen.


End file.
